


Full Moon

by ghostfromtuonela



Series: GeraltWhumpWeek 2020 [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Feral Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt will have to live with this for the rest of his life, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geraltwhumpweek2020, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Werewolf Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostfromtuonela/pseuds/ghostfromtuonela
Summary: “Please, Geralt. You can fight this. I know you can. Please just return to me. I love you, and I want to help you. We’ll figure out a way to help you. Please just return to me.”Part of GeraltWhumpWeek 2020 Day 3: Cursed
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: GeraltWhumpWeek 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811842
Comments: 16
Kudos: 77





	Full Moon

Jaskier had noticed Geralt was acting stranger than usual. He was much too quiet and would only grunt in reply whenever Jaskier – or anyone else for that matter – tried to talk to him. No matter how much Jaskier had begged him to tell him what was wrong, Geralt would at best kiss him on the head and tell him not to worry about it or completely ignore him. Once, he had even snapped at him, something he rarely did.

“For fuck’s sake, Jaskier, I told you not to worry about it! So will you just fucking drop it?”

Jaskier had been taken aback by the harsh tone. Sure, he and Geralt would engage in playful daily banter, but the keyword was “playful.” 

“Well, forgive me for giving a damn about you!” Jaskier had said once he came back to his senses, “I promise that in the future, I’ll just mind my own business.”

They hadn’t said anything to each other throughout the rest of the day. Jaskier knew he could be the bigger man here and apologize, but Geralt was the one who started it. If Geralt wanted his apology, Jaskier would gladly give it to him.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt finally said after they set camp and crawled under their bedrolls, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Apology accepted, Geralt,” Jaskier said and moved closer to him, “But just know that whatever you’re going through, I want to help you deal with it.”

“I promise I’ll tell you one day,” Geralt said.

“But not right now?”

“I’m not ready yet,” Geralt said, “I’m barely coming to terms with it myself. Now, scoop over here so I can hold you.”

Jaskier did as Geralt told him, and allowed the Witcher to wrap his arms around him into a tight hug. Despite being out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees and whatever beasts lurked in the shadows, Jaskier never felt as safe as he did while in Geralt’s arms. 

After that, Geralt talked more, though Jaskier could tell it was forced. Most likely, he thought it was not worth another fight. Jaskier, on the other hand, didn’t bring it up again. Not ever when Geralt had to calm Roach down with Axii continuously did he mention it. Geralt had promised him he would tell him someday, and he believed him. 

“So, where are we heading next?” Jaskier asked, trying to hold some sort of normal conversation.

“There is a small village a few miles northeast,” Geralt said through gritted teeth, “Rumor has it that it has a problem with what is most likely a Draconid,”

“Sounds good,” Jaskier said, “This will be a perfect place to try some of the new ballads I’ve been composing.”

“Just remember that people in these kinds of villages don’t have that much money on them,” Geralt said.

“Geralt, who do you take me for? The coin is always nice, but a good reputation is just as important, if not more.”

“Your point being?”

“The point, my darling Witcher, is that word-of-mouth is also something you need to think about. What kind of person will I look like if I only perform to those who can pay me? I might be the most talented bard in the Northern Realms, but I’m by no means the snobbiest. That title can gladly belong to Valdo Marx.”

“No offense, Jaskier, but I don’t want to hear about Valdo Marx now,” Geralt said, and Jaskier could tell he was ready to snap, “Tomorrow, you can tell me all about how much you hate him, but can you just… not tonight?”

Jaskier didn’t say anything. They rode silently towards the small village, and while Geralt went to negotiate the terms of the contract for the Draconid – a basilisk – Jaskier went to the local inn to get them a room.

“Will you sing for us tonight, bard?” the innkeeper, a woman in her mid-fifties, asked, “We don’t have much for the coin, all our money will go to the Witcher you arrived with, but if you promise to perform, you’ll get the room for free.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” he said and gave her his most dazzling smile, “I’ll pay for the room, and I promise you to give you the performance of a lifetime. I only ask that you and your patrons refrain from throwing rotten food at me. I got some new songs that I haven’t had the time to test in front of an audience yet.”

The innkeeper smiled at him, and Jaskier figured that she had been a beautiful woman once, only to be worn down through the harsh circumstances of war, famine, and too much work.

Geralt arrived shortly after that to put away some of the stuff he didn’t need to take with him. He was fidgeting and was more nervous than Jaskier had ever seen him before. He wanted to ask Geralt what he and the alderman agreed on but decided against it. Geralt had been angry and agitated already when they arrived. Jaskier could only guess how it must have grated on his nerves trying to maintain his calm while negotiating with an alderman short on money.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Geralt said and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Good luck, Geralt. And please, be careful.”

Geralt only gave him a grunt in response, and within just thirty seconds, he was out of the inn. Jaskier could only pray to Melitele that Geralt would return to him safely.

Jaskier could not remember ever performing in front of a crowd as eager as this. Although they didn’t have that much coin to spare – all their money had most likely gone to Geralt – they more than made up for it in terms of praises and enthusiasm. 

“My, my,” the innkeeper said when he took a small break, “You certainly have a way to lift the spirit. Here, have a drink on the house. I’m afraid it’s not as fancy as the ale you’ll find in Novigrad or Oxenfurt, but it’s the best I’ve got to offer.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier said, and took a large sip of the ale. It tasted mostly of water, and Jaskier wondered if the woman made it herself. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to be rude and drank up everything before returning to entertaining the crowd. 

It was well past midnight when the last patron finally left. Geralt still hadn’t returned from the hunt, and Jaskier was starting to worry. Draconids usually did not take this long to fight, especially not basilisks. That and the fact that Geralt had been acting strange the last few weeks only added to Jaskier’s worries. 

“He’s fine,” he said to himself, “Geralt has fought plenty of basilisks before; this is nothing new.”

Even though Geralt had told him not to wait for him, Jaskier’s worried kept him up anyway. He tried to think of relaxing things that would help him fall asleep, but no matter what, his thoughts would always wander back to Geralt. After hours of tossing and turning, he thought he would go mad of not knowing how Geralt was doing. Once it was close to dawn, and Geralt had still not returned, Jaskier got out of the bed and put on his jacket. Geralt could yell at him all he wanted later, but Jaskier needed to know he was at least okay. 

The entire village was still asleep when he stepped outside of the inn.

“Hey, girl,” he said as he entered the stables and woke up Roach, “I know it’s early, but I’m worried about Geralt. Do you think you could lead me to him?”

Roach allowed him to get on her back, and they rode towards the place where the basilisk was supposed to be.

_ “Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.” _

Roach was getting more and more nervous the closer they got to the mountain, and Jaskier could only pray that it was because she could sense the basilisk's presence and not… whatever it was that was bothering Geralt. He tried listening after the sound of a fight going on, but the only sound he could hear was a wolf howling somewhere in the forest. The trail of dead animals was probably by the basilisk, and Jaskier tried to ignore the voice inside his head that told him a basilisk would take them to its nest.

“Geralt?”

No answer. 

“Geralt?” he tried again, only louder. Again he was met with complete silence. 

Once Jaskier finally arrived, the first thing he noticed was the huge monster that was completely torn to shreds. The entire thing was covered in blood, its wings had been ripped apart, and its and beaks hung loosely from the rest of the body. It was a horrific sight, and Jaskier had to cover his mouth not to scream. Whatever it was that had done this – for not even a witcher could be capable of such brutality – was not someone Jaskier wanted to run into at these early hours when the sun had not yet begun to rise. Roach let out a frightful sound, and before Jaskier could properly grab hold of her, she threw him off and ran away.

“Roach! Come back here! Oh fuck, don’t leave me here.”

A noise from behind him made him jump, and carefully he turned around to look at where the sound had come from. Once again, Jaskier fought the urge to scream in terror.

Before him stood a snow-white werewolf. It was taller and sturdier than any werewolf Jaskier had ever seen before, and based on the lack of scars Jaskier could only guess where the blood that covered its body came from. Jaskier felt his heartbeat increase as the beast came closer and closer to him, bearing its fangs. He wanted to scream for help, but the sheer terror had rendered him completely frozen. Its yellow eyes were gleaming with rage and hunger, and the scar that covered its left eye only made its appearance even more frightening.

Wait—yellow eyes and a scar across the left eye.

“Geralt?” he managed to get out.

The werewolf stopped for a moment, and when Jaskier looked into the eyes, there was no doubt about who the werewolf was.

“Geralt,” he said again, and for a moment, he thought the creature might have recognized him as well. So he tried again.

“Geralt, it’s me, Jaskier. You recognize me, don’t you?”

Suddenly, the werewolf bolted away from there, running as fast away from Jaskier as it could. Jaskier felt all previous terror leave him, and he ran after it. 

“Geralt, wait.”

Jaskier would be damned if he let Geralt get away from him now to suffer this alone.

It all made sense now: the strange behavior these last weeks, how terrified Roach had been of him, and his reluctance to talk about it. The idiot probably thought Jaskier would finally see him as the monster others always saw him as. 

“Geralt, please don’t run away from me!” he shouted, desperate to catch up, “Dammit Geralt, come back here. I still love you.”

Too busy keeping up with Geralt, he didn’t see the root that was sticking up from the ground and fell to the ground, scratching his leg enough to draw blood. It seemed to stop Geralt as he slowly turned around and walked towards Jaskier. The hungry look on his face was back, and no matter how much Jaskier tried to stay as calm as possible, he could not stop the fear from returning.

“Please, Geralt. You can fight this. I know you can. Please just return to me. I love you, and I want to help you. We’ll figure out a way to help you. Please just return to me.”

But Geralt didn’t seem to listen, and just as Jaskier was about to run away, the werewolf lunged at him.

\---

It was just past dawn when Geralt finally started to come back to his senses and turned back to human form. The stench of blood almost overwhelmed him, and to his horror, he recognized it as a mixture of basilisk, wild animals, and fresh human blood. The mere thought itself was enough to make him gag. Whoever he killed, it must have been recently. A part of him didn’t want to see who it was, but his conscious forced him to take a look at his victim.

_ “Oh gods, no! Don’t let it be. Don’t let it be. Don’t let it be. This has to be a nightmare.” _

Before him laid the mauled corpse of Jaskier, his clothes completely ripped to shreds. His mouth hung half-open, and his blue eyes – which always were so full of life – were completely void. 

“Wake up, Jaskier,” Geralt said, and brought Jaskier into his arms, “Please wake up. Jaskier, I can’t live without you. Please wake up.”

No reaction.

“Dammit, Jaskier, don’t leave me, please!”

But Jaskier didn’t wake up. Geralt would never get to look into his beautiful eyes again. He would never hear that sweet voice whispering sweet nothings into his ears. He would never feel those soft hands on him as he caressed Geralt. He would never feel the love and acceptance he felt every time Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt and kissed him.

Geralt would never feel any of that again because he had killed Jaskier. 

He tightened his grip around Jaskier and let out a howl of anguish. He was reasonably sure that if his ability to cry hadn’t been taken away from him during the trial, he would be crying his heart out. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. Oh God, what will I do without you, Jaskier?”

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, just hugging Jaskier’s body tightly and chanting, “I’m sorry,” and “I love you” and “Come back to me.” He knew he needed to find someplace to bury Jaskier, but he could not bring himself to let go yet, as if holding on longer would magically bring Jaskier back. 

He wondered if things would have been different if he had just told Jaskier what was going on. Maybe then Jaskier would have known to stay away and not seek him out. Perhaps he would be crawling into bed with Jaskier, instead of cradling his dead body in his arms. But he didn't want to see the look of horror on Jaskier's face as he found out Geralt indeed was the monster everyone always said he was. Jaskier was the only person to never look at him differently, and he could not bear it if Jaskier had decided that a werewolf witcher was too much for him.

"I should have told you. Fuck, I should have told you. I shouldn't have doubted you."

It was almost dusk when he finally gathered enough strength to dig a hole in the ground and carefully place Jaskier in it. He knew Jaskier would have wanted to be buried together with his lute. Unfortunately, he had left it back at the inn, and Geralt refused to leave his body here to be fed on by the birds. It was also the last thing Geralt had left of Jaskier, and the thought of separating from the last earthly thing to remind him of the bard was unbearable.

Geralt had no idea how long he sat by grave, and he didn’t care. Wild Hunt take them all, there was nothing that could make Geralt care about anything anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any grammatical mistakes. English is not my first language.
> 
> The story is based on the song "Full Moon" by Sonata Arctica.


End file.
